


Nectar

by Hannelore_Grace



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dubious Consent, Lactation, M/M, Shame Boners
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:06:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9172495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannelore_Grace/pseuds/Hannelore_Grace
Summary: When Credence agreed to accompany Grindelwald, he thought he would just be learning magic. He didn't suspect that Grindelwald had bigger plans for him, nor that others might get hurt along the way.





	1. Shame

"Here you are, my boy. Drink this," Grindelwald said.

Peering up from where he'd been staring down at his plate, Credence eyed the cup set in front of him. It appeared to be milk, although it looked...different. Thinner, he supposed, and less milky white. It was almost incongruous with the rest of his meal; with such finery, Credence had expected a bottle of red wine, not a glass of milk to be set down in front of him.

Nevertheless, he reached forward and wrapped his fingers around the cup. Grindelwald-- not Graves. Not anymore-- had made it quite clear that he knew what was best for the young obscurial, and a condition of his taking Credence in was that Credence would do as he said. Credence had, in effect, traded one jailor for another, but at least this one did not seem prone to administering beatings.

"Thank you, Mr. Grindelwald," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he tipped his cup up to drink. It was...odd. Sweeter than milk, certainly, and almost nutty, too. Repressing any outward signs of confusion or distaste, Credence drained the whole cup then set it back down on the table, quickly tucking his hands into his lap so Grindelwald wouldn't see their faint trembling.

Across the table Grindelwald was...leering, was the best word Credence could think to describe it. He looked far too self-satisfied for Credence's comfort, but Credence couldn't begin to imagine why.

"Did you like it?" Grindelwald asked.

"Yes, sir."

"I'm glad to hear it. Now eat up! We wouldn't want your dinner to go cold."

Credence turned his attention back to his dinner plate and tried not to think too much about the rare-- nearly raw-- steak that had been placed in front of him. He ate mechanically and prayed that his stomach wouldn't rebel against the rich foods Grindelwald had given him; after so long of eating thin soups with little more than boiled cabbage in them, the meat sat heavy in his gut. Suddenly, he wished for more of the strange milk, if only to wash down the taste of blood on his tongue.

He suspected that might have been Grindelwald's intention all along.

-oOo-

After that first dinner, the cups of milk became a regular part of Credence's diet. In the morning he was expected to drink two glasses with his breakfast, then another glass would accompany every meal. Sometimes, while Credence was busy pouring over a magical textbook, Grindelwald would come deliver yet another cup, then merely hover until Credence had drank it all down.

"Good boy," he would always say, and sometimes he would even give Credence a pat on the shoulder. In those moments Credence would always hold himself stiffly, hating the dark, clouded look Grindelwald got whenever Credence flinched away from him.

However, despite all of Grindelwald's odd behaviors, Credence had to admit that his new living arrangements were much preferable to living with the Mary Lou. Learning magic was a challenge, but Grindelwald only offered gentle correction when Credence failed in one of his tasks. In fact, many times he appeared pleased with the results of Credence's failures. He had smiled and cradled Credence's face between his palms, praising Credence's strength when he had unintentionally leveled part of the field they were practicing in. Later, Credence had somehow managed to suck all the air out of a room, yet Grindelwald had only clapped him on the back and promised him a treat for a day well-spent.

Credence couldn't see how such horrific results could be considered successes, but he had seen Grindelwald's magic. He knew what the wizard could do with only a mere wave of his hand. Credence didn't wish to upset him by asking foolish questions, so instead he merely trailed behind his master, distantly hoping that his "treat" would include a visit to a bookstore. Credence was eager to get his hands on more texts about wizards.

Disappointingly, Grindelwald simply apparated them back home. Credence stumbled a bit upon their reappearance but quickly righted himself before he could bump into Grindelwald.

"Come here, my boy. There's something I wish to show you."

Grindelwald gestured for Credence to follow him down the hall then walked with confident, purposeful steps to the end of it. Credence frowned in confusion when Grindelwald stopped in front of an empty wall, but then a wave of Grindelwald's wand revealed a door secreted away into the woodwork. The door creaked open, and with apprehension clenching in his chest Credence followed Grindelwald into the room.

Later, Credence wouldn't be able to describe what, exactly, he had expected to find in Grindelwald's secret bedroom, but it certainly hadn't been this.

The room would have looked perfectly ordinary, albeit somewhat barren, if not for the man chained to the headboard of the bed. He was sat upright with his arms spread, each wrist cuffed so tightly to the wooden slats that he had no hope of shifting into a more comfortable position. The blue tinge to his fingertips indicated that he'd been held like that for a while.

"Sir?" Credence asked uncertainly as he crept farther into the room behind Grindelwald.

"Credence, meet Percival Graves. The real one, this time."

The smile on Grindelwald's lips made something sharp tug in Credence's gut ( _flee, flee, get away!_ ), but Credence found his feet rooted into the floor, unmoving while Grindelwald grabbed the hair of the man on the bed and lifted his head.

It was Graves, there was no doubt about that. Credence would recognize those heavy eyebrows anywhere. However, he looked a far cry from the Graves Credence had known, back when Grindelwald was wearing his face. His dark eyes were glassy and unfocused, and his jaw hung slack with a small bit of drool glossing his lower lip. Credence could only assume the man had been trapped here for a while because he had quite obviously lost muscle definition; where his body had once felt firm and coiled against Credence, now Credence could only see the thin, wilting frame of a beaten man.

"He's an omega," Grindelwald said as he stroked Graves's hair in a mockery of tenderness. "Such a rare creature. Were there any sense in this world he would have been kept at home and bred, not allowed to run all over the city putting himself in danger."

Credence couldn't help the spike of curiosity that drew him closer. Of course he'd heard of omegas, but he'd never thought he would actually meet one. Looking more closely at Graves Credence thought he could see some of the fabled allure of omegas to him. Yes, there was something oddly beautiful about the man, even when he was chained up and drooling.

"Sir? What's wrong with him?"

Clapping Credence on the back, Grindelwald gave him the cheerful smile that always set Credence's teeth on edge.

"Nothing's wrong, my boy. I've simply given him a potion to keep him calm and content. Frankly, a stressed omega's milk tastes foul."

"M-milk?" Credence stammered despite realization dawning on him.

It didn't take a genius to look at Graves's exposed chest and the device sitting on a table next to the bed and put two and two together. Credence's stomach roiled, and abruptly he had to look away, staring down at his feet rather than Graves's chapped, reddened nipples.

"Yes, my boy. Milk. An omega's milk is has many wonderful properties, not the least of which is its strengthening effect on magic.

"I've been using Graves's milk for myself since I first discovered his true nature. Although pumping and storing it for later works in a pinch, I find that it's more potent when taken straight from the source."

As if to demonstrate, Grindelwald knelt on the bed and tenderly massaged Graves's chest for a moment before leaning down to latch his lips around a swollen nipple. Even drugged as he was, Graves flinched and whimpered.

Credence could only watch, something like disgust and fascination keeping him in place, eyes riveted on the movements of Grindelwald's lips against Graves's skin. It was as if Credence was hypnotized through the whole process, only to be released when Grindelwald pulled back with a wet smack of his lips, his tongue flicking out to lap up one last dribble of milk from Graves's nipple.

"Come now. There's plenty more for you," Grindelwald said, gesturing Credence closer.

"N-no. I couldn't."

"Oh, but you _must_. I insist."

Credence stood, balancing on the line between compliance and disobedience.

"Does he have a child?" he asked, partly to give himself more time and partly out of actual curiosity. He was sickened by the thought of this happening to an infant's father, yet he nevertheless felt a pull in his insides at the thought of Graves's stomach rounded by a baby.

Grindelwald scoffed and shook his head. "Of course not. This is the work of a potion. Now stop your stalling and come. You won't get dinner until you've sucked him dry."

Although Grindelwald's words were only lightly scolding, Credence nevertheless felt the thrum of a threat underneath them. Reluctantly he stepped closer to the bed, doing his best to imitate Grindelwald's movements without too much thought. He began sinking into the same distant, closed off place he had always gone to during Mary Lou's sermons. This was like handing out those vile leaflets, he told himself. Unenjoyable, but tolerable for the sake of avoiding something worse.

He knelt on the bed and pressed a trembling hand to Graves's chest. It wasn't quite like he imagined a woman's breast would feel; although there was certainly a swollen sort of softness to it, he could still feel the muscle underneath the skin.

"That's it. Just massage a little bit. Good, now give the nipple a pinch or a tweak. Get it nice and hard," Grindelwald instructed.

He had moved to stand next to the bed, looming over Credence close enough that Credence could feel the heat of his body. He fought down the instinctive urge to lash out and run and instead did as he was told, teasing Graves's chest with shaking fingers. Anxiety turned in his gut as he watched Graves's nipple harden to a peak. It looked painful, all flushed and cracked, but Credence couldn't permit himself to dwell on it. He had a task at hand, and pitying Graves wouldn't make it any easier.

"Go on, then. Suck it."

Grindelwald's fingers curled into Credence's hair and pushed him closer. Biting down a fearful whimper, Credence let his face be pressed against Graves's chest, breathing in his heady scent for a moment before slowly, reluctantly wrapping his lips around the hardened nub.

He nearly recoiled when the sweet, warm taste flooded his mouth at the first firm suck, but Grindelwald's hand kept him held in place. Fighting back a gag, he swallowed then began suckling more steadily. He closed his eyes to try and block out what he was doing, yet somehow that only made it worse.

With his eyes closed, he was surrounded by the scent of Graves's skin.

With his eyes closed, he heard every soft whimper that the tug of his lips dragged out of Graves.

With his eyes closed, he keenly felt the warmth of Graves's bared skin bleeding through his clothes, and he couldn't help but list into it. Pressed together this close, it was almost as if Credence were being held in Graves's lap, being shown tender affection like he'd never known. He couldn't help but burrow closer, giving a soft gasp around Graves's nipple as he sought more contact. He shuddered, ashamed when he felt the growing weight of his cock digging down into Graves's thigh but completely unable to stop himself from pushing closer still, latching on and sucking more of those delicious noises from Graves's body.

"There you go, my boy. Take what you need," Grindelwald murmured, and Credence honestly didn't know if he meant the milk or the short, needy rolls of his hips against Graves's thigh.

"You're both so lovely like this. Perhaps once you're strong enough I'll put him in heat. Let you breed him full of your pups. Would you like that, Credence?"

The fingers curled in his hair, but the only response Credence could manage was a quiet whimper. His lips were still latched around Graves's abused nipple, though he couldn't help the desperate, needy pants he let out between hard sucks.

"Yes, I think you would like that very much," Grindelwald chuckled. "And how strong your pups would be. Imagine-- the offspring of an obscurial and a pureblood omega."

Distantly, Credence knew he should be more concerned about Grindelwald's mutterings. He had known the man long enough to know that such a tone couldn't bode well. Yet he found himself unable to tear his mind away from the body pressed against his, the sweet spring of milk filling his mouth over and over again until what came out was barely more than a dribble and Graves was groaning in pain under the hard suckling of Credence's lips.

"That's all there is for now, I think. Don't worry, he'll be fully replenished soon and you can feed again," Grindelwald said.

Pulling away, Credence immediately felt a jolt of shame. Graves's head was slumped back against the headboard, confusion and pain pinching the corners of his eyes. The side of his chest that Credence had just mauled, for lack of a better word, was red and slick with Credence's spit. He looked wrecked, and Credence had to look away to keep himself from sobbing out an embarrassing, useless apology. Graves likely wouldn't understand it, and it would only anger Grindelwald.

Yet the worst, Credence thought as he stood on shaking legs, the worst was the heavy, full weight of his cock in his trousers. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and wished, for the first time in his life, that Mary Lou was there to belt him for his sins.


	2. Soothe

That night Credence hardly slept at all. The noises Graves had made, the scent of his skin, his glassy-eyed expression were all trapped in Credence's head, making sleep an impossibility. 

At first he simply curled on his side and pushed his cock between his thighs, squeezing them tight together until it was painful, until he started to go soft. It was a trick he'd learned when he had presented as alpha and Mary Lou had taken to beating him if she caught him with an erection in the mornings. Though the shame he had felt then paled in comparison to what he felt now.

The rest of the night he twisted in the bed until the covers were tangled around his legs and he was forced to kick them off onto the floor. He deserved so much more suffering than the prickling of his skin in the chilly air, but he couldn't quite bring himself to fetch his belt and take it to his back. He wasn't strong enough for that anymore. Grindelwald's pampering had made him weak, made him sinful. He curled his fingers into his hair and pulled until strands were tugged out between his knuckles, but it still didn't ease the feeling like curdled milk in his stomach.

He wished he believed in prayer again. Yet he knew pleas to a god would not actually ease his guilt-- it was Graves's forgiveness he needed, and Credence knew that it could never be earned.

In the end, Credence barely slept more than a handful of minutes at a time before he startled awake, too wary of how his mind kept drifting back to thoughts of Graves. Once the sun rose he simply gave up and stood to begin his morning ablutions then paced around his room, practicing the simplest of spells until it was breakfast time. Soon, he would be a powerful wizard, just like Grindelwald had promised. Soon, he would be strong enough to take care of himself, perhaps find an occupation in the wizarding world so he wouldn't have to rely on the charity of Grindelwald.

And then...And then what? He wasn't so naive to think that Grindelwald would simply let him leave, nor did he think there was any hope of Grindelwald releasing Graves out of the kindness of his heart. No, the reality was that Credence was just as much a prisoner here as Graves was, and they were both powerless against Grindelwald.

At least, perhaps, until Credence learned to control the obscurus. He recoiled at the thought of intentionally releasing it again, but maybe he could learn to direct its destructive power. Maybe he could bring it to heel and let it find an escape for him.

And then, once he was free, he would come back for Graves. It would be the least he could do for the man.

-oOo-

Standing side by side, Credence and Grindelwald observed the destruction laid out in front of them. Credence's fingers twisted together behind his back, twining hard enough that he was sure the wand between them would snap, while Grindelwald merely smirked at the flooded landscape.

"You're a natural, my boy," he said.

Credence quite doubted that. He had only meant to fill a cup with water, not flood an entire field and ruin some no-maj's crops. Increasingly he was beginning to wonder if he should be learning magic at all. Something like him was probably better cast out and left to tear himself apart.

An impatient sigh jarred Credence out of his thoughts. He did his best not to recoil under Grindelwald's deep scowl.

"What? Do you _pity_ the muggles? They've always been helpless, tied to the whims of the land. This--" Grindelwald gestured across the muddy soil-- "Is their lot in life. Yet we cower in front of them."

"Yes, sir," Credence mumbled. He had long since grown used to Grindelwald's sermons (so strikingly like Mary Lou's) and knew the appropriate responses. Acceptance. Obedience. Concurrence. 

Even if it was all faked, it nevertheless placated his instructor. Grindelwald looked Credence sharply in the eye for a moment, then nodded.

"They are merely pests to us, my boy. Don't waste your sympathy on them."

Taking Credence's arm in hand, Grindelwald apparated them back to their home, although Credence was beginning to think of it as more a base of operations. It certainly lacked any overtures of homeliness, all bare, wooden floors and sparse furniture.

When they landed Credence was nearly breathless from the tight rush of it. He still wasn't used to such means of transportation and suspected he may never get used to it. At times it made him yearn for a broom or a fanciful beast to ride, but he dared not make such requests. It seemed like the sort of thing that would upset Grindelwald.

Grindelwald seemed to notice Credence's stumble, and suddenly he was all gentle, soothing gestures. He came to Credence's side and wrapped his arm around him as if to help support his weight.

"You've exhausted yourself," he practically cooed into Credence's ear. "All that power, it must be quite a challenge harnessing it. Here, let me help you to bed. You can rest while I put together lunch."

Credence let himself be led along, at first assuming that Grindelwald would put him in his bedroom with a glass of milk as he often did after their lessons. Although it made Credence queasy to drink it now that he knew what it really was, he couldn't throw it out. He knew, just as he knew that the sun rose in the east, that Grindelwald would find out what he'd done and punish him for it terribly.

However, this time Grindelwald pushed him not in the direction of his bedroom but rather toward the secret door, now not so secret. Credence's heart jumped into his throat and his guts tightened in dread. He knew what was awaiting him through that door, and he knew what would be expected of him once they crossed the threshold. For one hysterical moment he was tempted to break away and run. He couldn't do it again, he _couldn't_.

And yet.

And yet he stayed, propelled along by Grindelwald's firm hand on his back until he found himself sat on the bed next to Graves.

"Feed," Grindelwald instructed. "It will help you get your energy back, and you'll need it. We'll be practicing again this evening."

"Yes, sir."

Credence kept his head down, if only to try and avoid looking at the body laid out next to him. It didn't help; he was still keenly aware of Graves's smell, the soft rasp of his breathing, and the warmth of his body.

"Good. You'll feed directly from him once a day from now on. I have too much to do to waste my time pumping him for you."

With cheeks burning red, Credence nodded.

A moment of silence stretched between them, but finally Grindelwald seemed assured of Credence's obedience and began to leave.

"Enjoy yourself, my boy. He is a gift, and I expect you to make full use of him," he said before shutting the door behind him with a firm click.

Credence had to take several long, deep breaths before he mustered the courage to turn and face the man on the bed. He was relieved to see that this time Graves was laid down with pillows under his head; it looked much more comfortable than being bound upright against the headboard, although his hands were still chained to the bedposts. This time, he looked to be asleep. Credence didn’t know if that made things better or worse.

Hesitantly, Credence shifted closer to Graves until his knees were bumping up against Graves’s bared side. With fingers curled tight in his trousers, he leaned close enough that he thought Graves might be able to hear his soft whisper.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you or—or take advantage. I just…I have to do this. Or Grindelwald will…” 

He trailed off, not quite certain what Grindelwald would do. He _was_ sure that it would be awful, though.

“Anyway, I’ll do my best not to hurt you.”

He watched Graves’s face for any sign of a reaction but saw none. He supposed it was for the best. If Graves was asleep then Credence needn’t worry about him feeling any untoward reactions Credence might have. Still, just in case Credence pushed his hands between his legs, hissing softly as he pinched the tip of his penis.

With deep measured breaths Credence leaned down and pressed his lips to Graves’s chest. It was an awkward angle and sucking was somewhat difficult when he was hovering over top of Graves, but he was determined to let their skin touch as little as possible. This way, it was only his nose and mouth brushing against Graves’s tantalizingly soft skin. Credence pinched himself harder when his mind began to wander to thoughts of rubbing his hands up and down Grave’s body, letting his fingers trail down toward the buttons of Graves’s trousers, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He whimpered under the pain but didn’t ease up; the pain would keep him focused, keep him clean.

Or at least as clean as he could be after all the sins he had already committed. 

Although instinct told him to suck as hard and quickly as he could to get the ordeal over with fast, Credence could still remember the pained noises Graves had made the last time. He couldn’t do that to the man again, so he pressed his mouth more gently to his chest, using careful pressure and light tugs with his lips to suck the milk into his mouth. He shivered at the first gush onto his tongue but managed to swallow it down.

Soon, he was lost to the rhythm of it. Suck, swallow, lick to try and soothe the ache. Over and over again until one side only gave weak dribbles. Then he moved to the next, murmuring soft “I’m sorries” as his lips skimmed from one side of Grave’s chest to the other. He kept his fingers gripped firmly around his penis the whole time and very carefully did not let himself think about doing this awake with Graves’s arms cradling him close.

Finally, the milk was drained. Credence sat up and wiped at his mouth, cringing when he saw how red and tender Graves’s nipples looked despite his best efforts not to hurt him. He cast about and was relieved to see a small bathroom attached to the room. His legs were clumsy, shaking with nerves, as he clambered to his feet and hurried toward the sink.

He knew the cool, damp washcloth he retrieved would do little for Graves, but it was the only comfort Credence could offer. Sitting cross-legged on the bed next to Graves, Credence stroked the cloth over Graves’s chest in slow, light touches. He let it sit on each of Graves’s nipples for a longer moment, hoping it would leach some of the redness and pain away.

He was so focused on his task that he didn’t notice Graves’s head lolling on the pillow, not until Graves gave a soft moan and cracked his eyes open. Credence jerked back, dropping the cloth onto Graves’s stomach with a wet _plop_.

“Who’re you?” Graves asked. His voice was barely even a mumble, the words slurred under the influence of whatever drug Grindelwald had given him. His eyes were hazy and drooping, clouded with disorientation.

“C-Credence. I’m…I’m sorry, Mr. Graves. Grindelwald, he—“ 

Credence twisted his fingers into his trousers once more and dropped his gaze. He couldn’t bear to look at Graves. Not with Graves’s eyes staring right back at him.

“Fucking Grindelwald,” Graves mumbled. His eyes slipped closed, and for a moment Credence thought perhaps he had fallen back asleep. “S’alright. Do what you have to.”

Credence blushed and hoped that Graves didn’t remember what he had already been made to do. He quickly wiped the rest of his spit off Graves’s chest then scrambled to return the cloth to the bathroom. He rinsed it out for longer than absolutely necessary so the running tap would hide the ragged gasps of his breath. He hoped that by the time he returned Graves would be asleep once more and he could slip out of the room without further incident.

He had no such luck.

Once he managed to wring out the cloth and work up the courage to sidle back out of the bathroom, Graves was watching him more intently than ever.

“I hate to ask, but is there any Vaseline in there?”

Swallowing away the anxious lump in his throat, Credence hunched his shoulders and mumbled, “I can check.”

He was almost upset when he saw that there was a pot of it tucked away in the medicine cabinet. He already suspected what Graves wanted him to do, and he very much did not want to do it. All he really wanted was to be allowed to hide in his room and practice spells that _wouldn’t_ end in destruction. Still, he shuffled back out with the little pot cradled in his hands.

“Please, could you--?”

Somehow, the flush in Graves’s cheeks made Credence feel slightly better about the whole situation. Of course he would have preferred to not be doing this at all, but at least Graves felt as discomforted by it as he did. At least he wasn’t the only one fumbling for words and feeling wrong-footed.

Credence slowly sat back down on the edge of the bed and popped the cap off the Vaseline. His fingers were shaking as he scooped a small glob onto them, and the trembling only got worse when he reached to rub them over Graves’s chest. 

He nearly dropped the pot on the floor when Graves gave a moan that could only be described as _indecent._

“Sorry,” Graves said quickly.

It was wholly unfair that _Credence_ was the one whose ears were burning red. The circling of his fingers around Grave’s cracked nipples suddenly felt lewd. Filthy. Wrong. He swiped a smear of Vaseline onto each one as quickly as he could, then capped the pot and dropped it onto the table next to the bed.

“Goodbye, Mr. Graves,” he said, then all but ran out of the room, not caring if the door slammed shut behind him.


End file.
